Not Just Words
by LisaM2
Summary: It has been a month since Heather refused to accept Grissom’s apology. How can he show her that his remorse is sincere?
1. Default Chapter

Not Just Words  
  
Disclaimer: Gil Grissom, Lady Heather, and any materials relating to CSI episodes are not my property. They belong to CBS and the writers and producers of the series. No copyright infringement intended and most definitely no money made.  
  
The cold night air was in the Tahoe with him now. The  
engine, and therefore the heat, had been off for the past five  
minutes. Inside the parked SUV, Gil Grissom was considering his  
possible actions and the probable consequences for each.  
  
He had stopped directly across the street from The  
Dominion, intending to knock on the door and ask to speak with Lady  
Heather. It had seemed the obvious way to put an end to the month-  
long silence between them, and he had left the lab certain that the  
rift would be mended. When he turned the key, that confidence had  
died along with the motor.  
  
Grissom's mind had replayed their final conversation at  
least daily since it took place. Each time, he told himself that his  
job had to take priority over his personal feelings. He had not  
believed Heather was involved with the deaths his office was  
investigating, but he had to be sure. He was sorry his actions had  
been hurtful to her, and he tried to tell her, but his attempt at an  
apology had failed. The trust he had seen in her expression  
previously was gone, and the chill in her voice was unmistakable.  
"Apologies are only words," she had responded, on her way out of the  
building, and, he feared, his life.  
  
Now, he wondered if his idea to make another attempt to  
explain was wise. He had no reason to think that her point of view  
had changed, but he had to try to explain the reasons behind his  
actions. After her rebuff, he had thought about the phone call he  
made that morning, after their first and only night together, and how  
it must have sounded to her.  
  
Given the requirements for admissible evidence, he could have asked  
her for her medical supplies without the formality of a warrant. If he  
had, he knew there would be more chance of the evidence's validity  
being questioned, and Heather remaining a potential suspect. The  
warrant, ironically, made the results showing her innocence more  
credible. He did his job in the best way he could. Unfortunately, he  
now realized, he had not taken the time to explain that to her.  
Particularly after the trust she had shown in him the night before, he  
could all too clearly see how she had been wounded by his call for a  
warrant.  
  
He shivered, and looked at her door again, knowing it was time for a  
decision. He closed his eyes for a moment, removed the key from the  
ignition, and climbed out of the Tahoe.  
  
The lights were on in the downstairs of the large house, and in a few  
second-floor rooms. On either side of the porch, flame tip bulbs  
burned in wrought iron and glass fixtures. Their light cast an  
incandescent glow, creating a slanted double shadow of the man  
climbing the steps. He hesitated for a second before lifting the  
heavy brass knocker and announcing his presence. It would be  
humiliating to be turned away, but Gil knew he could more easily deal  
with rejection than the lingering guilt he felt about his actions.  
  
He took a deep breath, and knocked. 


	2. Part 2

Part2  
  
He did not expect Heather to answer his knock, but still found  
himself looking over the shoulder of the petite blond who answered,  
hoping to catch sight of the one he was here to see. The hallway was  
lit by a few strategically placed candles, but he saw no movement  
behind the woman who greeted him with "Yes?" a tone of cool inquiry in  
her voice.  
  
He brought his eyes back from the empty hallway to respond. "I  
am Gil Grissom. I was hoping to speak with Lady Heather for a few  
minutes." The woman paused for a few long seconds, as if deciding how  
to use the information she had just been given.  
  
"Is she expecting you, Mr. Grissom?" she asked, cautiously  
polite towards the handsome stranger who wished to speak with her  
employer. Although rare, it was not unheard of for Lady Heather to  
have a personal appointment which was not recorded in the Dominion's  
daily schedule, but this man did not have the edgy and eager demeanor  
of a client.  
  
"No, I don't believe she is, but she knows me, and it is  
important that I talk to her. Could you please let her know I am  
here?" Grissom asked, his uneasiness increasing under the woman's  
silent scrutiny. He knew that Heather might not wish to see him, but  
he was not leaving until he was either given a chance to talk to her  
or told she refused to give him that chance.  
  
"Just a moment, while I see if she is available," the woman  
responded, closing the door with a soft click. Gil did not like being  
left outside like some potential event crasher, but he had little  
choice if he wanted to see Lady Heather, so he waited. He was  
watching the moths flit around the porch lights, oblivious to the  
scorching danger, when the door reopened. "Please come in, Mr.  
Grissom," the woman said, gesturing toward the red velvet sofa on the  
left side of the wide hall. "My name is Carina."  
  
Gil thanked her as he entered and she closed the door behind him. He  
was relieved to know that Heather was willing to see him, but his  
relief was to be short-lived. "Lady Heather is occupied now, but asks  
that you leave a message."  
  
Grissom tried not to let his feelings show on his face. He had told  
himself that this answer was a possibility, but it was still difficult  
to accept without disappointment. He could think of nothing he  
wished to have another say for him, and he considered simply leaving  
as quickly as possible, but paused. He removed a small leather  
cardholder from his jacket pocket, opened it and extracted a business  
card. From his other pocket, he produced a pen and wrote "home", then  
a second phone number on the back of the card before handing it to  
Carina. "Please just give her this and ask her to call," Grissom  
said.  
  
Carina took the card and read the front, identifying him as a  
supervisor of the Las Vegas Crime Lab. She frowned and asked "Is this  
a law enforcement matter, Mr. Grissom?" preparing herself for an  
affirmative answer.  
  
"No, it is personal," he replied. "She will know that," he added,  
with a slight smile to cover his discomfort with the question. Carina  
nodded, and returned his subtle smile before moving toward the door to  
show him out.  
  
"Have a good evening, Mr. Grissom," she said, as he went through the  
doorway. He wished her a good night as well, descended the steps, and  
crossed the street to his car.  
  
He doubted that he would get the call he had requested, but he knew  
that he had done the right thing tonight. Even if she refused to  
forgive his previous lack of consideration, he no longer felt  
powerless to repair the damage done, and that was a beginning.  
  
He drew the seatbelt across his chest, fastened it, and turned the  
key. The engine came back to life and he glanced at the rearview  
mirror, seeing a small cloud of exhaust rising in the brisk night air.  
He turned on the lights, put the heat setting on low, and waited for  
warm air to emerge from the vents. It was time to return to work. 


	3. Part 3

Part 3  
  
The rest of the night had been busy after Grissom returned to the lab.  
A woman had shot and killed her husband after learning that his  
third paycheck in a row had been lost at the blackjack table. In  
spite of Catherine's view that it was justifiable homicide, the woman  
was now in custody, charged with murder.  
  
On the other side of town, an ongoing argument between neighbors had  
escalated until one man's pit bull was found roaming the local  
streets, dragging what appeared to be a human arm, minus the hand.  
The arm was in the lab, the dog was being held by animal control, and  
the owner was declaring his total innocence to anyone who would  
listen. His contentious neighbor was missing.  
  
Grissom sighed and rubbed his eyes as he shut and locked the door.  
The sun had just risen and the rest of the world was waking up, fixing  
breakfast, preparing to go to work. This morning, sleep was more  
appealing than food, so he had declined Sara's invitation to accompany  
the group to breakfast.  
  
Although he was not happy to admit it to himself, he had also wanted  
to come home in case Heather called. His phone had received only work-  
related calls after he left The Dominion. Work had kept his mind off  
his unsuccessful attempt to see her, but now that he was home, he was  
hoping, though not expecting, that she would call. He removed his  
jacket, hung it in the coat closet, and made his way to the bedroom.  
  
Sleep came quickly, once his neighbors had all left for work or school  
or the other destinations of the non-nocturnal. In some parts of Las  
Vegas, daytime was more quiet than night.  
  
Gil was back at the Dominion now, and Carina was smiling, taking his  
hand to lead him up the stairs. He could hear the distinctive sound  
of a whip cracking a few rooms away, but otherwise the large dwelling  
was quiet. At the top of the stairs, his companion released his hand  
and motioned for him to follow her down the hall.  
  
She stopped at the door at the end of the hall, and tapped on it  
lightly before entering. Gil hesitated, not sure if he was supposed  
to enter the room with her. Carina turned and waved him silently  
through the door and into Lady Heather's private suite.  
  
A ringing phone broke the silence of the moment, and he looked around  
Heather's sitting room, waiting for someone to answer it. Carina was  
gone now and the unseen phone rang again. On the third ring, he  
realized it was his phone, ringing on the nightstand where he had  
placed it earlier, and he flung his arm out from under the covers to  
reach it. By the fourth ring, it was in his hand.  
  
His vision was still blurry from sleep and he could not make out the  
name or number on the LED display, but he hit the answer button.  
"Grissom," he said, trying to stifle a yawn. He glanced at the clock,  
saw that it was only two hours since he had gone to bed, and frowned,  
irritated at being awakened so soon.  
  
"You are sleeping," a familiar voice replied. "I will call you  
later." He made a fast transition from asleep to awake at the sound  
of Lady Heather's voice and propped himself up on one elbow in the  
bed.  
  
"No, it is alright. I was just waking up," he lied, determined  
to keep her on the phone, for fear that this might be her only attempt  
to contact him. "I wanted to, I mean, I am glad you called,"  
continued, trying to gather his thoughts quickly. "I need to talk to  
you."  
  
There was a brief silence on the other end of the call, and he  
wondered if he had responded too late to keep her on the line. "Yes?"  
was her only reply. Gil sat upright now, fully alert. She was not  
going to make this easy for him.  
  
"I needed to explain my actions, Heather. I know you don't want  
apologies, but I hope you will listen this time." He waited for a  
response, but none followed, so he continued. "I never believed you  
had a part in killing anyone. I believed that the evidence would  
prove that, but I had to be sure. I had to be sure that it could not  
be questioned. That is why I made the call. I should have explained  
that to you then, but I didn't, and for that I am truly sorry." He  
stopped and took a deep breath, waiting for her reaction.  
  
"Thank you," Heather replied. "Yes, you should have explained  
then. I had trusted you, and it hurt not to have that trust  
returned."  
  
"I know, and I hope you will forgive me. I would very much like  
to see you again," Grissom responded. "I need to make it up to you."  
  
He could hear the hint of a smile in Heather's voice when she  
said "Oh? How do you plan to 'make it up to me,' Mr. Grissom?"  
  
"In exactly that way, Lady Heather," he replied, adopting her  
more formal mode of address. "I will make it up to you to decide how I  
can prove my sincerity, and my trust in you," he continued, the  
beginning of a smile playing at his lips.  
  
"Yes, you will need to convince me, Mr. Grissom. Tomorrow,  
perhaps, would be a good time for you to do that. Could you come by  
in the afternoon?" Heather had to wait only a second for Gil's  
affirmative response to her invitation. "Good, I will plan on seeing  
you at 3:00. Call me when you are on your way," she said, preparing  
to end their conversation.  
  
Gil agreed to be there at the appointed time, knowing he could  
arrange to take the evening off work if necessary. Prior to saying  
their goodbyes, he thanked her for allowing him make things right  
again. "Oh, yes, I am sure you will earn my forgiveness, Gil, and I  
look forward to it," Heather replied.  
  
In spite of his state of physical fatigue, Grissom laid awake  
for some time after the conversation ended. He replayed her words in  
his head and knew he would do whatever it took to regain her trust.  
He rechecked the alarm setting, and settled in for a few more hours of  
sleep before returning to work. Tomorrow would be a very long day. 


End file.
